We’ll Catch Up Soon

by Aaliyah Smith

“Happy New Year! We gotta hang out more this year.”
“Merry Christmas! I hope you’re enjoying it. I miss you!”
“I love you! Let’s do dinner soon!”
“I’m so glad we’re friends—let’s make plans!”

Scrolling through my messages, I notice they all say the same thing. Warm, familiar, comforting. And yet…nothing ever happens.

There’s this tweet I saw a few weeks ago that perfectly captured it: one woman sends a holiday message to her friend and the friend responds, and gets left on delivered. The caption reads: “texts of two girls who will never see each other again” I laughed, but it stung a little, because I know that feeling so well. The hopeful plans that never actually land. The repeated promises with no follow-through. And it’s not a condemnation—no, no, you’re not a bad person, they’re not bad people. Life just happens. Schedules collide, months pass, and some friendships exist entirely in messages and memories. 

Scrolling down the comments on that tweet was even more revealing. So many people were saying, basically, if you want to be friends, you have to step in first. You have to initiate. You have to make the plans. Be specific: “No babes, let’s go to this restaurant this weekend, maybe five o’clock.” Don’t leave it in the nebulous ‘we should hang out soon’ space. And I get that. I really do. But the poster responded that she’s tried that before and it still fell through. People never commit. They might be busy, or they might just…not want to. And then you’re left thinking: did I do too much? Not enough? Is it me?

That’s where the weird, tender tension lives. Sometimes one person is putting in more effort. One person texts first, one person tries to schedule, one person shows up and the other person exists mostly in that in-between space, responding when convenient, liking your messages, but not actually creating the connection. And yet, somehow, both people still call it a friendship. You say, yeah, I’m friends with her, and she’d probably say the same. But if anyone asked, what do you actually do together? You’d pause. Text occasionally. Celebrate birthdays. Maybe two coffee dates in three years. And that’s it. Not even a low-maintenance friendship, it’s a nothing friendship. A nothingburger friendship.

And yet, we hold onto them, don’t we? Especially as women. Because we want sisters. We want that community, that shared life, someone who shows up for you, not just in texts but in reality. And maybe sometimes we inflate these connections in our minds, holding onto the “what if,” hoping it could be something incredible, something enduring, something that matters. And that hope is fine. It’s human. But January reminds you that hope without reciprocity is…just hope. And sometimes hope can blind you from seeing the possibilities right in front of you. The people who do show up, who actually want to be present, and who are actually putting in effort too.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what is called contextual friendships. These are the ones that only exist because of context—shared spaces, shared schedules, shared experiences. Same class, same office, same weekend brunch ritual. You like each other. You click. You might even imagine the friendship going somewhere. But remove the context? And the connection disappears. Sometimes it’s months, sometimes years, but it disappears.

And yet, we hold onto it anyway. Why? Because of the potential. The what if. What if we actually do hang out? What if she becomes the friend who knows me in ways nobody else does? What if we survive the distance, the scheduling conflicts, the repeated failed attempts, and emerge as something real?

But then you check your messages, and it’s the same cycle: “We should hang out soon,” “I miss you,” “Let’s plan something.” And you realize it’s never going to change unless you make it change. And January, with its soft resets, forces that reckoning. Suddenly, the text messages that once felt comforting now feel…thin. Empty. Familiar heartbreaks disguised as casual check-ins.

This month, especially, reveals the social resets we’ve been avoiding. Everyone is recalibrating quietly. Some friendships are strengthened by intention and some quietly dissolve under the weight of inaction. And it’s not dramatic. There are no fights, no big endings, just an undeniable reckoning. Some people fade from your life. Some people stick. And some hover in the liminal space of text messages and intentions that never materialize.

It’s not all bad, though. There’s this awkward humor of it all. It just kinda sneaks up on you when you think about all those “we should hang out soon” texts you’ve exchanged over the years and realize they probably weren’t ever going to land. And there’s clarity, too. These subtle reminders show you who really wants to be in your life, and who isn’t showing up because intention isn’t there. Some people just aren’t ready for friendship outside of context. And that’s fine. Life isn’t tidy.

So here’s the tender lesson of January:

you don’t have to cut anyone off, you don’t have to assign guilt, you don’t have to label anyone a bad friend. But you can notice. You can acknowledge the space between you and these friendships that exist mostly in text and memory. You can send the occasional “hey, let’s hang out” and then let it go if it doesn’t happen. Because that’s enough. That’s honoring the friendship as it is, without overinvesting in the hope of what it could be.

The relief that comes with it is enormous. Suddenly, you can breathe. You can see your life clearly, without those tentative, “maybe someday” relationships taking up psychic space. You can invest in the people who show up, who want to be there, who make the effort. And if someone falls away quietly? That’s okay too. Sometimes the most honest form of friendship is just noticing who’s really there, and letting the rest exist gently in their own space.